Associations
by chrysalis escapist
Summary: a series of Mac/Stella drabbles
1. Associations

**Disclaimer: I ****don't own the CSI:NY characters**

**Method: pick a word and see where it takes you**

"You're jumping to conclusions." Mac says.

"Am not!" Stella pretends to pout.

"Well, I don't see the path you've taken to arrive at this conclusion."

"That might be because it's inside my head."

He raises an eyebrow. "Can …"

"And no, I'm not going to let you perform a CT to look." she cuts him short.

Of course she knows that he had not thought of it now and would never seriously think of it. He's fairly sure that she can see inside _his_ head without a CT.

"So, do you think you could describe the path for me?" he asks and secretly prepares himself for a long and winding road.

"Well," she grins at him, "it's _not_ long, and it's _not_ winding. It's wide and straight, running between trees, and there's lots of sunshine." Her grin is getting wider with every word. "And at the beginning stands 'chestnut' and at the end 'motive'"

"Uh-huh?!" Now both his eyebrows are up. "And in between?" He suddenly imagines a path covered in words.

"From 'chestnut' I went to roasting, and coals, and being comfortable, and from there …" Stella frowns, hesitating, "I don't remember …"

"Told you it was long and winding." Mac chuckles.

"No, you didn't, you _thought _it. But I did arrive at colors, and that it may have been her hairdresser who killed her is still worth looking into, I think."

"Yeah." Mac agrees, after all a lot of their cases have been solved thanks to exploring a link that had spontaneously popped up. "And in the meantime, coffee?"

"Is that all you can think of?" she teases gently, a soft smile letting her eyes sparkle.

He returns it with a wink, "Let's just say it is my Rome."

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	2. Candlelight

**Thanks for the lovely reviews. Here's the next little bit, for **_**Tomate**_** who provided the first trigger-word.**

"That wasn't quite what I had in mind for this evening." Stella mutters.

"Me neither." Mac returns, "Sorry about that."

"It's not your fault." she says warmly.

He shrugs. "Maybe not, but I didn't do anything to prevent it …"

"What could you have done to prevent it?" she sounds surprised.

"Talk to Sinclair." he says simply.

"Well, in that case" she's adamant, "I'd rather be stuck here."

"Thanks." He can't help but smile.

After a short pause Stella begins again. "I just don't understand why he even cut the emergency lighting."

Mac's chuckle is sarcastic. "He probably thinks that with what we see everyday …"

"… we'll be glad if for once we see nothing?" she finishes for him, "Well, I find being stuck in an elevator annoying enough even when it's not pitch black! What would I do if I didn't at least have you to talk to? Try to read a book to pass the time?" she snorts.

"And they don't even seem to be in a particular hurry to get us out of here." Mac notes.

"When the bosses are away the lab rats will play." Stella muses.

Mac hears a metallic purr as Stella opens her bag, then a rustling, like plastic.

"Do you have a lighter?" she asks.

"Sure. Need to see something?" Mac fishes the item from his pocket and lights it.

And he's not sure what shines brighter, the flame or the smile on Stella's face as she stands before him with a couple of candles in her hand. She kneels down on the floor and puts them before her. He lights them carefully, and the flames dance like the sparkle in her eyes.

He wonders why she had candles in her bag. _Please don't tell me you are going to miss a date._ "What … were your plans for this evening?"

She looks him in the eyes. "No candlelight dinner. I was thinking of taking a bath to relax. And candles" she shrugs, "make a pleasant atmosphere."

Mac agrees and he knows how good it would do her. "Why don't you sit down here?" he indicates a spot.

He gets down behind her and begins to let his hands run over her shoulders, her arms, her back. His touch feels like warm water. Slowly she leans into him.

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	3. Moonlight

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews, the favoriting, and alerting, I hope you'll all continue to enjoy these little bits. Thanks also to **_**autumngold**_** and **_**csi kane**_** for your reviews; sorry I couldn't send a proper reply.**

**For **_**iluvcsi4ever **_**who provided the trigger-word.**

He's not surprised to see her stand in the door of his office. She always comes by when her shift is over. Even when, like today, he shouldn't be here anymore. To remind him that he shouldn't be here anymore.

"What's keeping you?" is her greeting on such occasions_._

"Just wanted to finish the paperwork on this." Mac points to the open file before him.

"Paperwork? Like that can't wait. It's a beautiful night outside." Stella points to the window.

Mac follows the trajectory of her finger with his eyes and ends up looking at a perfectly round moon.

"Precisely. I want to be prepared. You know why crazy people are also called lunatics, and what this desk will look like tomorrow. And with the full moon and perigee almost coinciding …"

"What?" Stella exclaims.

"Perigee, when the moon is closest to the earth on its elliptic path." Mac explains.

"I know what perigee is. What I meant is … seriously, Mac, if this is all that moonlight makes you think of we really have to get you out of here. Come on!" Stella underlines the last words with a motion of her hand, waving him towards her.

She thinks he might be complying a little bit too quickly. Did he have this planned? Her suspicion is confirmed when he suggests to take his car. She studies his face and gets the feeling he's trying not to smile all the time. They drive in silence until he asks her to close her eyes.

She hears him stop the car, get out and open the door for her. She feels his hand gently tugging hers, and then his arm around her waist to guide her. After several steps over varying ground they stop. She feels his breath on her cheek.

"Open your eyes." he whispers.

The moon's beams play with the leaves of a weeping willow. Silver glides down its branches and drips into the water of a little pond. A gentle breeze scatters it over the water's surface, effervescent.

Mac thinks he has the better part of this because he also sees the moonlight getting tangled in her curls and adding radiance to her skin, and her smile. He sees his delight reflected in her eyes.

His arm is still around her, and he feels her hand sneak into his.

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	4. Snowman

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews, the favoriting, and alerting, I hope you'll all continue to enjoy these little bits. Thanks also to **_**autumngold**_** for your review; sorry I couldn't send a proper reply.**

**For **_**kaidiii **_**who provided the trigger-word.**

Mac looks down at the slush that is gathering at the curb as he walks towards where he is supposed to meet Stella. Not the nicest part of winter, this soggy mass of grey ice-cold.

Reaching the spot where Stella had said she would meet him he swirls around at hearing a sniffling noise. With a few steps he's at the source of it.

He's crouching down before a bench and through a curtain of curls he can still see the sparkle of green eyes. Only that he never wants the sparkle to be caused by tears.

"Hey, little one, what's the matter?" he asks.

The curtain is brushed aside by a small hand and the little girl raises her head to look at him. "I wanted to build a snowman like these" she points at a line-up of little snowmen a few feet away, "but it keeps falling apart."

Mac looks at the snowmen; they must have been built the day before. Now the snow here is too wet and has drenched the girl's gloves.

"Come here." Mac peels the sodden mass of wool off the girl's hands and then rubs them carefully while looking around.

He spots a gathering of still pristine white snow not far away. "Let's have a look at that." he says.

Together they study the consistence of the snow. The girl tries it with her hands, it packs well. She smiles at Mac.

Stella looks at the collection of snowmen before her. Dappled with grey sent flying by passing cars they look a little like Gerrard. But where is Mac? She looks around.

Then she sees him, not far away, rolling around a ball of snow. For a moment she shakes her head in disbelief, then she closes the distance between them, watching him and the girl, all smiling.

Mac looks up at her. "Hey, would you like to help?"

"Of course." Stella beams at him. "What can I do?" she addresses the girl, "Would you like another ball?"

The girl nods happily. "Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. NYPD! This will be the best snowman in the street with your help, won't it?"

"I think," Mac says, placing his hand on Stella's shoulder and looking at her fondly, "with her help it will be the best snowman in New York."

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	5. Snow

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews, the favoriting, and alerting, I hope you'll all continue to enjoy these little bits**** :).**

**For **_**iluvcsi4ever **_**who provided the trigger-word.**

"It's beautiful." Stella says, looking around as they walk along.

"Yeah." Mac replies.

She looks at him, "You don't sound very convinced. I thought … no, I _know_ that you like snow. Best investigative tool money can't buy, remember?"

"That it is, but I can't help thinking that it's also dangerous."

She brushes away a snowflake that has gotten caught in her eyelashes, "Guess it can be. But we are not going to have an avalanche here in New York City."

"No. But what about the weight of the snow on roofs? It could crush a building."

"It could." she admits, pushing her hands deeper into her pockets. "But it wouldn't really have been the snow. Either there was something wrong with the construction of the building, or it had been neglected."

"More car accidents." is his next point against.

"It sure doesn't make driving easier, but again it is the people who can't handle it who are the real danger." she rebuts it, "And snow makes people feel good. Better than November weather anyway." She shudders a little at the memory of cold rain dripping into her collar.

"Black ice." he suggests.

"That'd be black ice, not snow!" she grins at him, enjoying the fact that they have time for such a conversation, and a walk together.

"But the snow could cover the black ice." he elaborates.

He's just finished the sentence when with a surprised gasp she's gone from his side.

"I'll have to agree with that." are her next words, lying on the ground, "But the advantage: it softens the fall."

"Really?" He extends a hand.

"Well," she winks at him, "I should know now, shouldn't I?"

She reaches for his hand. He steps a little closer but before they touch he disappears in a cloud of white.

"You're right." he says after landing.

"Of course I'm right. But you really couldn't just believe me, could you?" Grinning she rolls over and leans onto her elbows to look at him.

"Always double-check the evidence." he reminds her, smiling, "And you're right, it is beautiful." He looks up into the sky that seems to be brimming with stars, dancing down to earth.

Dancing around them.

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	6. Gelato

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews, the favoriting, and alerting, I hope you'll all continue to enjoy these little bits**** :). Also thanks to **_**autumngold**_** and **_**Moska**_** for your reviews, sorry I couldn't send a proper reply**

**For **_**narutoprincess **_**who provided the trigger-word.**

"Ice-cream, in winter?" Mac asks, entering the break room.

"M-hmm," Stella nods, continues after swallowing, "why not? I know loads of people who have hot drinks, like coffee, all summer."

"Good point." Mac says, sitting down opposite her with a steaming cup.

"Plus," Stella points at the box giving the name of the ice-cream parlor, "they have some great flavors that really fit winter."

Mac reads the writing on the box. "Why 'gelato'? I mean, why don't they say ice-cream, are they Italian?"

"I don't know." Stella shrugs, "But ice-cream is pretty much Italian. The first one is credited to Emperor Nero, after all."

"Yeah, snow and fruit pulp and honey. Not very creamy though, I'm sure." Mac states.

"Which is why 'gelato' is the better name." Stella grins.

"There's also the story that Marco Polo brought the recipe from the Chinese." Mac brings up.

"Well, Marco Polo was Italian." Stella defends her theory. "And … no, I can't really imagine people trying to use a Chinese word for ice-cream."

"They have no problem with ketchup, that's originally a Chinese word." Mac points out.

"True." Stella's spoon hovers in the air. "I wonder though if it's still recognizable to them as such, the way we pronounce it."

"What about 'gelato', it has other meanings, right?" Mac takes another sip of his coffee. "I mean, for example, if I wanted to say that there's ice on the street …"

"… and you used 'gelato'," Stella smiles, "people would probably assume that somebody had dropped one."

Mac has finished his coffee, "And …"

Stella pins down his spoon with hers, "An icy glare? Would be 'gelido'"

Mac pretends to shiver. "So you are not going to let me try some of your 'gelato'?"

They are fencing over the box with their spoons. Grinning, Stella drives Mac towards a corner of the box and stops.

"That," she points at the scoop beneath his spoon, "is the one with Irish Coffee flavor."

Her smile is definitely not icy. It warms him, inside out.

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	7. Hairspray

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews, the favoriting, and alerting, I hope you'll all continue to enjoy these little bits**** :).**

**For **_**ssbailey **_**who provided the trigger-word.**

Mac hears a high-pitched buzz coming from one of the labs and follows it. Stella seems to be emptying a can onto a mannequin wearing a wig that looks a bit like a beehive. He sniffs the air.

"So you found traces of aminomethyl propanol and methacrylate again?"

She grins at him. "Not just traces, loads of."

"And now you're testing if the suspect's hairdo might have become bulletproof?"

Stella chuckles, prodding her finger into the indeed rather hard mass she has created by applying a whole can of hairspray to the wig.

"What's that noise?" Mac wonders. There's a hum in the air that doesn't seem to come from the ventilation.

Stella looks at him. "Which one?"

"Oh," he pricks his ears, listening for it, "now it stopped." he says.

"Funny, Mac. That was me humming … and don't tell me that Sid is better at it."

"I wasn't even thinking it." She scans him. "Honest!" Mac holds up his hand in the 'I swear' position.

"I believe you." she smiles. "Guess it is more likely though to catch Sid humming."

Mac nods. "What were you humming?"

"What you said about the hairdo possibly being bulletproof reminded me of that movie 'Hairspray' …" Stella explains.

"The one where John Travolta plays a woman?" Mac asks.

"Almost. That was the remake. Seeing him in such an outfit might be worth watching it, but from what I've heard I think the original version is much better." Stella elaborates.

"Wasn't it the first movie by John Waters that wasn't rated X?"

"Could be. Have you seen it?"

"No."

She gives him a look. "Mac, you can not know these things about the movie and not have watched it. We have to change that!" He doesn't look convinced. "Come on, it will be fun. Great music, and a good story too. My place, tonight. You bring the popcorn."

He hesitates. "You're not going to make me dance along."

She pretends to consider it. "Not without me."

He thinks about it. The prospect of dancing with her, whatever dance it might turn out to be, outweighs his reservations. "What flavor would you like?"

She smiles, a sparkle winking in her eyes. "Let's see, caramel contains propylene glycol, vanilla … I don't really want to know. How about good old sugar?"

"I'm on it. See you tonight." He smiles, looking forward to it.

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	8. Politics

**Thanks for all the lovely ****reviews; I hope you'll all continue to enjoy these little bits :).**

**For **_**BlueEyedAuthor **_**who provided the trigger-word.**

"What? Wait, that can't be right, right?" Stella almost drops the letter she's holding, "I mean, what the hell is he thinking?"

"He calls it politics. Damn, I hate politics." Mac vents his frustration.

"Actually, politics as such isn't bad." Stella points out, "Mac, you yourself do it every day."

"And that is supposed to be a good thing?" he wonders.

"Yeah! Of course it is, guess you've become too used to it being corrupted to recognize it as such. But Mac, you are doing the right thing!"

"He probably believes that what he does is right too. Though it feels more like he's turning the crime _lab_ into a crime _scene_."

"Well, if he really does that you know that we will get him." Stella exclaims.

"Chances are we won't if he continues with those cuts. Plus, with his connections …"

"Gerrard had connections too and they didn't help him when he made the wrong choice." Stella reminds him adamantly. "I think I'll have to make a list why you are a better politician than either one of them."

"Can you think of even one reason?" Mac is clearly not convinced.

"Oh yes! I can start with the fact that you are a better person."

"Thanks," he feels flattered, "but how does that help?"

"You have common sense, and you use it. Politics is still done by the people for the people. Mac, when you make a decision you don't make it over people's head, and for that you have the whole lab behind you. You are a good leader." She pauses for a moment to study his face. "Are you beginning to believe me?"

"How could I not, even if I tried." Mac chuckles. "Who could stand his ground against you?"

"Good, because one of the tricks to politics is to convince as many people as possible that you are right."

"Ah, that explains why you're so good at it." He thinks for a moment. "The whole lab would include you, wouldn't it? So, if I make the right decisions, and you convince people that they are right …"

"We can do anything."

"Even crush Sinclair's plan." Mac points to the letter Stella is still holding.

"Let's get to it." She emphasizes her words with a mischievous sparkle.

He takes hold of the letter before she lets go and it gets torn between them.

"Oops." Stella says, laughing. He joins her.

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	9. Music

**Thanks for all the lovely ****reviews; I hope you'll all continue to enjoy these little bits :). Also thanks to **_**autumngold**_**, sorry I forgot about that the last time and that I couldn't send a proper reply.**

**For **_**Tomate **_**who provided the trigger-word.**

"'It's not my fault; I was only dancing to the music of the stars.' Have to say, that was an interesting defense." Mac says as they leave the interrogation room.

"Yeah," Stella agrees, "kind of reminds me of the times when people used to play records backwards and heard strange messages."

"They must have been strange." Mac assumes, "I can fairly say I have always been exploratory, but it has never occurred to me to play a record backwards. And I'm reasonably sure that there isn't a record in the world that tells you to kill your gardener, whichever way around you play it. And even if, you still shouldn't do it."

"I think she may have been referring to something else anyway. What was her sign of zodiac again?" Stella checks the notes. "Libra. Well, that's a bad excuse then, Librans are supposed to shine in justice."

"Let's hope then that doesn't mean she shines at bending the laws."

"Or she'll give us a lecture on the influence of her ascendant, the moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars … and so on. I wouldn't be surprised if people who believe that kind of stuff find some planet or star to lay the blame on for all of their problems. But I can't really imagine reading 'Tomorrow you will kill someone.' in a horoscope."

"Would be nice though if we could just read them to find the perpetrator before he commits the crime." Mac sits down at a nearby computer and types something.

"Checking your horoscope?" Stella teases. "I'm sure it would read 'You'll catch the criminal.' most days."

"Thanks for the compliment, but no. There was something else I had heard about music of the stars. Astronomers have converted the vibrations and other waves stars emit into audible sound. Listen." Mac hits the enter button.

Stella sits down next to him. "It's beautiful."

"I don't think you could really dance to it though."

"Hm, all you need to dance is a rhythm. And they are bound to have that." She listens closely, then gets up again, extending her hand.

He follows the rhythm of the stars dancing in her eyes.

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The music of the stars does exist; I have it on CD, but also found a few examples on the net. :)

Thanks for reading. Reviews (and trigger-words) are very welcome and appreciated any time, and always replied to if logged.


	10. Carpe Diem

**Thanks for all the lovely ****reviews; I hope you'll all continue to enjoy these little bits :).**

**For **_**iluvcsi4ever **_**who provided the trigger-word.**

"What do you think?" Mac turns to face Stella. He sees in her eyes how she's focusing on the installation before her.

A rose, broken and wilting, losing its petals like drops of blood. Two words inscribed on its stem._ Carpe diem._ Drops of blood on the rose's thorns.

"'Carpere' also means 'to pick', so I guess that's why she chose a flower." Stella begins voicing her thoughts, "And here, when somebody seized the opportunity two got hurt, the rose," she points at the petals, "and the person who wanted to pick it." she points at the thorns. "And it sure looks like real blood."

"Thank you! That is good to hear." a female voice says behind them, "As you may guess from that, I'm the artist. And you have no idea how long I tried to get the 'blood' right, so I'm very happy now that it worked. And you are also right with your other thoughts. But that should not deter you from seizing your opportunity when it comes. If the rose is willing maybe it won't prick." The artist winks at Mac.

"Uh, we are not together." Mac points out.

"Well, I think you should be." the woman says, "I could sense your vibes a mile off!"

"Maybe you sensed somebody else's instead?" Stella tries to deflect the embarrassment she feels this is causing Mac.

"No. But now that you say it, I do sense some real bad vibes coming this way right now."

"You killed my friend!" They all turn around, with the intention to identify the speaker. Identify the speaker's intention. Made clear by a knife. Aimed at Stella. Somebody pushes her, somebody pulls.

Push and pull. A man and a woman. Caught in an embrace that is all wrong. Surroundings blurred by their momentum. Two people on the ground. The blood on the installation is real. Everything comes to a standstill, frozen in midair like the rose's petals.

Time begins again. Two people on the ground, not them. Mac becomes aware that he's still clutching Stella. She suppresses a shiver that nonetheless resonates in him. She's breathing heavily to get a grip on the emotions churning through her so that he will believe it when she tells him that she's okay.

_Seize the opportunity._ He leans his head against her cheek. She doesn't pull away. _Don't let it go. _She folds her hand over his._ Don't let me go._

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	11. Spaghetti

**Thanks for all the lovely ****reviews; I hope you'll all continue to enjoy these little bits :).**

**For **_**narutoprincess **_**who provided the trigger-word.**

"That's an interesting method." Mac comments. A second later his hands come up defensively, not that that would help much against one of Stella's glares. "Sorry, I had no intention to sound critical."

Her eyes soften a little. "I'm sorry. It's not your fault; I'm just a bit touchy on that subject."

"Why, what happened?" he asks, curious because he dislikes the thought that there might be unresolved hurt in her life.

"It's stupid really. It was just that back at the orphanage, well, there were some nuns who wouldn't let me eat spaghetti when we had them for dinner, because I couldn't eat them the way they thought it should be done." Stella tells him.

"You're right," Mac agrees, "that's stupid of them. I'm sure there's more than one right way to eat spaghetti. Just like there are as many different recipes for the perfect sauce as there are Italian grandmothers, I heard."

Stella smiles, "Why don't you grab a plate? Show me how you eat spaghetti …"

"Thanks for sharing." Mac gets a plate from the cupboard.

"You know, I heard that in some regions up in Northern Italy people even use knives to eat spaghetti." Stella serves him a generous helping. "And I found out that the way I eat them, only with a fork, is common in Liguria. Who knows, maybe it's genetic and that's where my father came from." she muses.

Mac rests his fork on the plate. "Stop looking at me like that." he grins, "I get the feeling that you're expecting me to eat them with mathematical precision."

"Well," Stella chuckles, "I'm sure that you could work out the perfect way to roll the spaghetti from a scientific point of view. But really the secret's in the sauce."

"Somehow I've heard that somewhere before …" Mac eyes the sauce suspiciously, "Who did you add to it?"

Stella smirks, "In fact I did grill a few suspects today. But I doubt they would have complemented the taste."

Mac finishes a mouthful. "Whatever you added to it, I think there are more recipes for the perfect sauce than there are Italian grandmothers."

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	12. Smile

**Thanks for all the lovely ****reviews; I hope you'll all continue to enjoy these little bits :). Also thanks to **_**autumngold**_**, sorry I couldn't send a proper reply.**

**For **_**Hazmatt **_**who provided the trigger-word.**

Sometimes Mac thinks he has seen them all.

Some of them he'd rather not see again.

The distant ones. Some of those he gets a lot. They seem to be saying, 'You can think for as long as you want that I did it, but you can't prove it.' Stella has a reply to that variety, equally distant. The confidence she shows in it heats the suspects, but it warms him.

Or, 'So I got bad news for you, but I'll just pretend they're not bad, because they aren't bad for me.' That one is simply called 'Sinclair's' by Stella. And she has a reply to it too. Laced with a devious sparkle.

Stella has a distant smile of her own. The one that tells him, 'I'm fine, really. But don't probe, just leave me alone.' He likes to see it because he's glad that she's so strong she's still able to smile. And at the same time he hates to see it because he's afraid that it may just be for show, that she only smiles because she thinks he expects her to be strong. When rather he would offer his shoulder to lean or cry on.

The brave ones who smile through tears, grateful that the murderer of a loved one has been found. He'd trade them any time for the smiles of the victims he only gets to see in old photos.

He likes to see the genuine smiles. The relief when a name is cleared. A little present without a real reason, or just a small gesture giving comfort. The sharing of good news. Even just the moment when someone in a crowd smiles, and someone else can't help to smile back. A small smile that can be like a glimpse of the sun through the clouds, transforming lines of worry.

And sometimes it settles. He loves to bring those kinds of smiles to her face.

He realizes he's smiling himself over those last thoughts. And he feels her approaching a moment before she stands in his door.

"Hey, what's making you look so happy?" she asks.

His smile deepens. _You. It's just good to see you._

And he gets his favorite smile from her. The one that casts a soft shimmer all over her. The one that looks like her soul is spreading its wings. Flying towards him.

* * *

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	13. Camera

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**For **_**lily moonlight **_**who provided the trigger-word.**

"You know they say that cameras don't lie." Mac says.

"And you should know that I don't lie, at least not to you … or about such things." Stella replies heatedly, "I was not there!"

"I got that the first time, and I believe you." Mac attempts to sound calmer than he feels, trying to calm her down too. Emotion is not going to get them anywhere in this. But he feels that if he took a picture of her now with a Kirlian camera he'd see something resembling a solar eruption. "The problem is, with this picture they think they have proof that you were there, and you can't prove that you weren't."

She flares up again. "Come on, you know how easy it is nowadays to make a fake picture, anybody could do it …"

He holds up a hand wanting to sooth her but somehow he suddenly feels it might look like he wants her to stand still for a picture to be taken. He shakes his head fiercely to dispel the images of side and front views of her holding up a sign. No, that can't be. Somebody is framing her.

"Stella, I do know how easy that is. And please believe me that I believe you." He closes the distance between them, feeling like he's about to take a close-up of her. And he'd love to. He focuses on her eyes, something about them that could never be captured in a picture, only in his eyes and memory. "We'll have everybody working on this. But we have to focus. Please try to remember, was there any occasion lately when somebody could have taken a picture of you and use it to manipulate this evidence?"

He sees her pupils adapt to the change of light as she looks at the photo again, adapt to the emotions it's causing her. Things a camera can't do. But that doesn't make the camera objective. It can only ever be as objective as the person who uses it. Filter, perspective, detail; every choice can tell a different story. One facet of the truth. But not the whole truth.

"The shadow I'm casting matches the time the crime had occurred, which happens to be the time when I'm usually on my way here, so yeah! But I don't remember anybody coming that close to me."

"And if they took the picture from further away that would show in the resolution. Good, Adam can check that out. I'm sure he knows the technology to beat this."

"Not that I'm too fond of modern technology at the moment." Stella huffs.

"You know," Mac turns and rummages in his drawer, "old cameras couldn't always tell the truth either. Remember this?"

She takes the picture he's holding out to her. The two of them on it, looking like they are going to go at each other's throats when they were actually laughing. "You've kept that? Why?"

"I like it." he shrugs, smiling, "You look great when you're angry, especially when I know that you're not."

* * *

Thanks for reading. Reviews (and trigger-words) continue to be very welcome and appreciated any time, and are always replied to if logged.


	14. Wine

**Thanks for all the lovely ****reviews; I hope you'll all continue to enjoy these little bits :). Also thanks to anyone who has this on favorite or alert.**

**For **_**Queen Em **_**who provided the trigger-word.**

Mac thoughtfully swirls the burgundy liquid in the glass. Glowing in the soft light.

He puts the glass down, places his hand on the table. "Remember the high velocity chardonnay spatter?" he asks.

Stella returns to the table and sits down opposite him again, smiling. "Yeah, how could I forget that? It was an interesting case, poignant too." She pauses for a moment.

"Actually quite fascinating in how many respects wine is like blood." Mac says.

Stella takes up her own wineglass. "The color, if it's red wine. And like with the DNA from blood you can find out where it comes from. Some people can tell from the taste what soil it grew on."

"Stains are as hard to wash out as bloodstains." Mac brings up another point and slowly pulls his hand away from the tablecloth. "Sorry about that!"

"Oh." is all Stella says for a moment. She places her hand over the stain and then over Mac's hand. "Don't worry about that." She chuckles. "You know, if red wine is like the red blood cells then maybe white wine can be the white blood cells. Someone once told me that you can 'heal' a 'bleeding' red wine stain with white wine."

"Really?" Mac makes a mental note to investigate the matter.

"That's what they said. Only I currently don't have any white wine." Stella thinks of buying a bottle to try it out.

She takes another sip from her glass and feels the warmth of the crimson dark spread through her body. Blood and wine. Wine and blood. She runs a finger up and down alongside the stem of the glass. Watches the light play in the miniature ripples she's causing. Concentric circles. She feels Mac's gaze resting on her.

"_Like blood_," she thinks and he says.

They both get up, glasses in hand. They connect, arm around the other's like a chain, and drink again.

Blood brother, blood sister. Forever.

* * *

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	15. Evergreen

**Thanks for all the lovely ****reviews; I hope you'll all continue to enjoy these little bits :). Also thanks to **_**csi kane, **_**sorry I couldn't send a proper reply.**

**For **_**ssbailey **_**who provided the trigger-word.**

Mac peeks out of the elevator and scans the ceiling carefully. It is the time when even intrepid Stella walks through the lab with a hint of paranoia. Because amongst the evergreen, red ribbons and golden bells, in every possible and seemingly impossible place there might be a mistletoe.

And the paranoia might not be wholly unfounded. Mac knows for a fact that there are a few female lab techs who'd like to steal a kiss from him. And Stella, well, he'd be surprised if a single, male co-worker told him that they don't want to kiss her. He's not even sure Sid or Flack would say no to the chance.

Mac passes through the doors of the morgue.

"Hey." It's not Sid's voice that greets him. Stella stands next to one of the dissecting tables.

"Hey," Mac returns the greeting, "what are you doing here?"

"I'm waiting for results." Stella smirks, "Only that they are not really results from down here. Somebody has thought of putting mistletoe over every workstation in the trace lab this year. What about you?"

"Different results, same problem." Mac offers a dry smile, "And this time of the year I hate the glass walls of my office. I feel watched, even when I close the blinds."

"Like half of the lab is just waiting for you to come out, I guess." Not that that surprises her. "Good thing that Sid won't have any of that decoration down here."

As if called the ME enters the morgue. "Hey, you two. Hiding again? Some sort of an evergreen that is, it just works every year, doesn't it?" They nod simultaneously. "Much as I appreciate that you're feeling safe here," Sid continues, "I have an autopsy to perform, so I'll have to ask you to leave now."

The doors close behind them. "Did you just have the feeling that he looked a little bit devious?" Mac asks Stella.

"Uh-huh," Stella turns back and looks through the glass of the door, "and now I'd say he's downright grinning."

Mac's eyes are on the ceiling, "No wonder. I swear that piece of mistletoe wasn't up there when I came here."

They observe the tradition.

"You know," Stella says thoughtfully, "maybe we should change our strategy and stick together today. So when we're caught under mistletoe we're already 'taken'."

"Sounds like a great plan." Mac agrees, "So, we pick up your results first or mine?"

* * *

Hope you all have a wonderful Christmas :)!

Thanks for reading. Reviews (and trigger-words) continue to be very welcome and appreciated any time, and are always replied to if logged.


	16. Mafia

**Thanks for all the lovely ****reviews, and to anyone who has this on favorite or alert; I hope you'll all continue to enjoy these little bits :).**

**For **_**ssbailey **_**who provided the trigger-word.**

"Kind of gives a whole new meaning to your theory that everything is connected." Stella sighs.

"Yeah, it's not the sort of proof I had been looking for either." Mac sounds equally frustrated as he sits down next to her.

"But it is a little bit different, it's more like _everybody_ is connected." Stella tries to cheer him up.

"But it's precisely his connections to the mafia that are going to get the perp out of this." Mac remains negative. After a pensive moment he continues, "What about you? With your part Italian background …"

"Background, right." Stella interrupts him, "But I have no Italian relatives that I know of."

"Have you ever thought of using your DNA to find some?" Mac wonders.

"And find out that they are all criminals? No, thanks!" Stella says vehemently, "Remember what happened last time my DNA got into the system?"

"Of course, sorry I mentioned it." Mac soothes her with his voice and his hand on hers. "However," he carries on, "if it turned out that you were indeed related to any one of them I'm sure you would be the white sheep in the family. And you'd make them stop."

"You bet I'd certainly try." Stella puffs. She turns her hand under Mac's and interlaces her fingers with his. "I do wish I could get in somehow to stop them."

"Well, the mafia family is not a real family anyway. But as you said, everybody is connected, in a way. Maybe you do have some connections you could use."

She thinks about it. He watches her face, sees a touch of sadness settling on it, as usual when she's been led to contemplate that aspect of her past – and maybe present too. He's sorry he made her.

She lifts their still entwined hands. "Mac, everybody _is_ connected. And family isn't just blood relations. I have found all the family I need." She squeezes his hand with a warm smile. "Here, with you."

He returns the smile, making use of the hold he has on her to pull her closer and into a hug.

* * *

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	17. Fondue

**Thanks for all the lovely ****reviews and to anyone who has this on favorite or alert; I hope you'll all continue to enjoy these little bits :).**

**For **_**BlueEyedAuthor **_**who provided the trigger-word.**

"Some food always makes me wonder how people thought of eating it. Fruit are pretty obvious." Mac looks at a specimen he has picked up. "But who thought of making chocolate?"

"I don't know," Stella replies, licking a drop of said brown substance off her upper lip, "but I am forever grateful to whoever it was."

"So I see." Mac enjoys the look of content on her face. "And who do you think invented chocolate fondue?"

"If I didn't know for a fact that it had existed before I'd take credit for that." Stella says with a reminiscing smile, "On my first vacation alone I had kept a bar of chocolate in a black bag … and ended up dipping it up with a banana."

"What was that again about having to do something when you dropped a piece into the fondue?" Mac wonders looking at his blank fork.

"Traditionally the men have to buy the next round of drinks. But that doesn't make much sense here seeing as it is only the two of us, and at home. I could make you do what the women have to do." Stella smiles at him.

"That being?" Mac inquires.

"Kiss the one sitting next to them." Stella grins, "But you could also buy me a pack of coffee if you'd prefer."

"Hmm." Unwilling to bend over the table Mac gets up. His hand on her shoulder he leans in.

He sits down again and they continue eating, each somewhat lost in thoughts.

"Uh, did you put anything into the chocolate to make this happen?" Mac scrutinizes the velvety brown surface and then his once again empty fork.

"I only added cinnamon. I don't think it does that, though at college we used to say that it was …" Stella stops, giving Mac an evocative glance.

"Was what?" Mac asks, getting up again. On a whim he decides to take his chair along.

"Never mind." She looks away for a moment, a soft blush enhancing her beauty. It doesn't feel like a forfeit to kiss her.

"Did you just do this on purpose?" Mac grins as Stella withdraws her fork from the chocolate and it comes up empty.

There's a glint in her eyes. "Would that be bad of me?" Her hand on his cheek she kisses him. "But actually I think it's that those peaches are very slippery."

"Hmm." Mac picks up a piece to test the theory. "Indeed."

* * *

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	18. Tango

**Thanks for all the lovely ****reviews and to anyone who has this on favorite or alert; I hope you'll all continue to enjoy these little bits :). Thanks also to **_**csi kane **_**and sorry I couldn't send a proper reply.**

**For **_**Queen Em **_**who provided the trigger-word.**

Stella peeks into the AV lab. Music coming from it is nothing unusual but it doesn't sound like Adam's taste. And she's a little surprised to see it's Mac listening.

"Hmm, sounds like a tango." she moves closer, "Is that the record you found on the victim?"

"Yes, good old vinyl, haven't seen that in a while." Mac looks at the record player and then at Stella. "Have you ever tangoed?" he asks.

"You mean other than with you?" Stella grins, "Only when I had dancing-lessons."

"Me? When was that?" Mac wonders.

"All of the time." Stella's grin deepens, enjoying Mac's look of puzzlement. "A friend of mine said that after seeing us together." she explains.

Mac's eyebrows go up. "Implying what?"

"I don't know." Stella pretends to be busy brushing a smudge off her skirt. "But she also mentioned the _arrastre_, a step in which the leader appears to drag or be dragged by the follower's foot."

"Equality in leading and following." Mac smiles, "I can live with that when it comes from you." _I could also live with the other implications._

The record has stopped and Stella looks at it. "'Kriminaltango', that sounds German. Wait, the victim was found in Tompkins Square Park, that's at the center of what used to be Little Germany. There has to be a connection."

"Just what I thought. Except that the guy who sang it, Hazy Osterwald, was actually Swiss." Mac points out.

Stella rolls her eyes. "Please tell me you did not know that."

This time it's Mac's turn to grin. "I didn't, until I researched it, looking for the lyrics. I was just having them translated."

Stella leans over his shoulder to look at the screen. Her eyes latch onto one word. "Pince-nez, the victim was wearing them, that clearly is a message."

"Looks like all we have to do is decipher it." Mac is pleased. "In the meantime, would you like to change that?"

"Change what?" Stella looks at Mac puzzled. She sees his outstretched hand and understands. "I'd love to."

Passing by outside Hawkes lifts his dropped jaw back up into a smile. They dance in a close embrace.

* * *

With that title, how could I resist using the song :)

Thanks for reading. Reviews (and trigger-words) continue to be very welcome and appreciated any time, and are always replied to if logged.


	19. Champagne

**Many t****hanks for all the lovely reviews and to anyone who has this on favorite or alert; I hope you'll all continue to enjoy these little bits :). Thanks also to **_**csi kane **_**and**_** autumngold **_**and sorry I couldn't send a proper reply.**

**For **_**BlueEyedAuthor **_**who provided the trigger-word.**

The stem of the glass lies in a slender hand. On its side, cold glass, in a cold hand. A small shard has broken loose, seems to float in a gently foaming liquid.

Stella carefully picks up a bottle. More shards, bigger, of a different color. "Adam is going to love this." she smirks, cautiously turning the bottle to examine the label that is holding several of the shards together. "Looks like the real thing, champagne."

"We should have that tested," Mac says, "if it turns out not to be champagne that would be a trademark violation."

"And a possible motive, if she was either involved or about to uncover it." Stella studies the liquid around the glass and the bottle. Pearls so fine, and so many still breaking through the transparency of the liquid. "This looks real to me." Stella lets her finger hover over the small puddle for a moment.

"And this" Mac picks up the cork and twists it in his gloved hand, "looks old to me."

Stella looks up. "Over time the cork loses its elasticity and after being removed from the confines of the bottleneck less and less returns to its original shape."

Stella looks back at the victim. A woman in her early twenties. Nothing outstanding. Not about her, not about her surroundings.

"She doesn't look like the kind of person to be having champagne every day." Mac points out.

"That's what I thought. More like this was once in a lifetime. I wonder what the occasion could have been." Stella continues studying the crime scene. "And I hope that … I guess this sounds silly, but I hope that she actually got to drink some of it."

"It doesn't sound silly to me." Mac assures her, "I was just wondering if it is decadent to have champagne just because you can."

"If you are that rich that you can have champagne every day, or even bathe in it, I'd say yes because there are a lot of better things you can do with your money. But if you happen to have a bottle, like I guess she had …" Stella pauses for a moment, her eyes on the victim again, "you probably shouldn't wait for an occasion." She glances at Mac.

"Because being alive is reason enough." Mac agrees with what he sees in Stella's eyes. He hesitates for a moment. "So … would you like to come to my place tonight?"

Stella's smile sparkles in her eyes.

* * *

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	20. Hindrance

**Wow, it's been a while, sorry about that, I'm currently insanely busy**** (pretty much like our CSIs).**

**Many t****hanks for all the previous reviews and to anyone who has this on favorite or alert; I hope you'll all continue to enjoy these little bits :).**

**For **_**iluvcsi4ever **_**who provided the trigger-word.**

Stella walks down the corridor determined, glancing into Mac's office along the way. The look on his face stops her dead in her tracks. Sinclair? No, then Mac would look more annoyed. This look is somewhere between puzzled, lost and sad.

Stella's determination has a new goal, to find out what is bothering Mac and make it go away. Her feet follow the new course and she enters his office. He looks up and immediately avoids her eyes. But she knows.

"When did she call?" Stella asks, getting right to the point, but still gentle.

Mac cringes; he should have known he wouldn't be able to hide it from Stella. But then, he's not really sure he wants to. Because, who to talk to if not her, his best friend? "A couple of hours ago … she wants us to get back together again."

Stella studies Mac's features carefully. "But you're not sure."

"Not at all," Mac replies quietly, his eyes still on the floor, "and I wonder if it could have worked the first time round had I been sure then."

Stella nods pensively. "Remember what you said about us having been through painful relationships?"

"Yeah, and I also remember what I got you into with it." Mac doesn't look happy with the memory.

"You got me into nothing with it. And I still think it's very true, also when it's about trying again with the same person." _Why am I saying this? I don't want them to get back together. I don't want him to get hurt again. But is that the only reason … or am I biased?_

_Maybe I should have said that it's time to try__ with someone who understands, like you._ Mac wonders, "So you think I should give it another try with Peyton?" _Really?_

_No._ "If you feel there is a chance, yes." _I can't … I mustn't let my feelings stand in your way._

"Okay, I'll call her … and talk to her." Mac says slowly.

"Good." Stella's smile is a little weak because her heart is heavy.

"I need to have this sorted out before I can move on." Mac watches Stella closely. The change is minute, but he sees it. And she sees the meaning in his smile.

* * *

Thanks for reading. Reviews (and trigger-words) are still very welcome and appreciated any time, and are always replied to if logged.


	21. Christmas tree

**Many t****hanks for all the previous reviews and to anyone who has this on favorite or alert; I hope you'll all continue to enjoy these little bits :). Also thanks to **_**jerseydad**_** for reviewing my story DOB.**

**For **_**Mellow girl **_**who provided the trigger-word.**

Stella takes in the scene, "Looks like this happened a while ago."

Mac gives her a smile. "Exactly, _looks _like, will see if it _did_ happen a while ago." He looks at the Christmas tree still decorating the room. "Or whether he was trying to hold on to something."

Stella nods. "He may also just have been too lazy to take it down. I came past a post office this morning where they still had all the windows decorated with those paper stars." She looks around again, are there any indications of sluggishness? "On second thought, that could also be because they …"

"… are trying to hold on to the best business they have during the year." Mac finishes for her, chuckling.

"Yeah." Stella smiles, "And it's really nice to get a proper card every once in a while instead of e-mails."

"Even if I saved on the postage by leaving it on your desk?" Mac wonders.

It makes Stella grin. "Well, the post office might mind that, but I sure didn't." The grin turns into a warm smile.

Mac studies the Christmas tree. No angel on top, he finds it standing on the windowsill, giving the impression that it's looking outside. "Have you ever thought … that it seems to be those who put the angel on top who always leave us first?"

_Claire._

"And when …" Mac feels the touch of Stella's hand on his back, "when Peyton wanted to put it up there I … I just couldn't let her. I still couldn't let her …" he says slowly, a sigh in his voice.

They stand side by side, both following the gaze of the angel to the stars outside. Reaching out.

_I'm not sure if I could let you __…. _Mac's eyes travel from star to star, further up into the sky.

_I wouldn't ask you to. _Stella's hand moves up, gently squeezing his shoulder.

* * *

Thanks for reading. Reviews (and trigger-words) are as always very welcome and appreciated any time, and are always replied to if logged.


	22. Spirit

**Many t****hanks for all the previous reviews and to anyone who has this on favorite or alert; I hope you'll all continue to enjoy these little bits :). I've got more time now but immediately used it to get a major cold :S, please don't flame me if there are stupid mistakes in this as a result.**

**For **_**Mellow girl **_**who provided the trigger-word.**

Stella bursts through the door and stops abruptly when she sees Mac. "Sorry!" The word is muffled by her hands covering her mouth.

Mac takes a step back. "It's okay. Don't worry."

Her hand reaches for his temple, wanting to soothe but not daring to touch him, maybe causing more pain. _Why do I have to keep bursting out like that?_ "I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to take it out on you."

"I don't think you did. You couldn't have known I was right behind the door." Mac points out.

"But I should have guessed it. I should have …" The anger that has caused this is still flaring, but now it is directed at herself.

"No, really, don't blame yourself. I should have guessed you'd be coming through. I heard how the interrogation was going." Mac thinks that the throbbing in his temple, where a bruise is quickly forming, kind of pleasantly matches the throbbing he had felt building up while listening. "I've often wished I had your spirit."

"If you want to hit back …" Stella offers, spreading her arms.

Mac looks at her and he knows that she's serious. _But as much as I consider us equals, I would never do that, and … _"you wouldn't really do that either."

"Not if I had the chance to think about it first." Stella admits, "No, I wouldn't _want_ to do that, ever."

"I could give the door a kick if that makes you feel better." Mac suggests with a glint in his eyes.

Stella chuckles, "Thank you. But you really don't have to make me feel better. I deserve a pang of guilt." She pauses, looking him in the eyes. "But seriously, Mac, you have a lot of spirit too. You're just much better at controlling it than I am."

"Are you sure it's still called spirit then?" Mac can't resist a little gentle teasing, seeing that Stella is feeling better. And after all, the best way to get her defenses up is attack. And those defenses help against her own recriminations too. He smiles seeing her put her hands on her hips. _That's the spirit_.

A grin creeps onto Stella's face, "Well, it does take some spirit to be daring to stand up to me." She lets her hand move towards him. "Mac, I think you _are_ the spirit of the law, and justice." _And I love you just the way you are, so don't you go changing._

Mac feels the warmth of her spirit spreading through him. "You do?" Stella nods. "I guess we should both stay the way we are." He takes her hand. "We make a pretty good team that way."

Stella raises an eyebrow. "Just 'pretty good'?"

Mac smiles. _I couldn't think of any better._

* * *

Thanks for reading. I've got quite a stack of trigger-words now but reviews and trigger-words are still very welcome and appreciated any time, and are always replied to if logged!


	23. Food

**Many t****hanks for all the previous reviews and to anyone who has this on favorite or alert; I hope you'll all continue to enjoy these little bits :).**

**For **_**Mellow girl **_**who provided the trigger-word.**

Mac looks at the pictures on the desk before him, trying to read their message. Even if the perpetrator had no intention of sending one. Finds himself arranging them in different possible ways, vegetables … fruit, true fruit or culinary fruit?

Food on all of the pictures, scattered all around the victim. Food, such a basic need of all life. And humans have developed it further; they don't just _eat_ food to live, many live on producing, selling or preparing food. Sometimes elaborate concoctions, now surrounding death.

Mac looks at the pictures of the crime scene again, showing the place where this other kind of food chain has been disrupted. The victim a cook.

_But why? _Mac's thoughts begin trailing towards the motive.

Base needs there, not basic needs. The ones that should be suppressed all the time, while the others can be suppressed at times. With a wry smile Mac thinks of the many times he has been foregoing food and sleep.

And then there's what he can't imagine even a day of doing without …

"Hey," Stella walks through the open door with a folder in her hand, "Got some food for thought for you." She stops, watching a little amazed as Mac breaks into a warm smile. "What?" she asks, the smile reflecting onto her.

He mentally ticks of two of _his_ basic needs. Fulfilled in one go, why not add a third. "What do you say we talk about it over lunch?"

"So you're saying you need more than just food for thought?" Stella grins.

"Actually I need food to be able to think," Mac returns, adding "most of the calories we consume are used up by the brain." in a mock matter-of-fact way. He looks at her as they walk out of the room. "And then there's also the nourishment for the heart and soul, the comfort it can bring, and the sharing …"

She gives him a hearty smile.

* * *

Thanks for reading. I've got quite a stack of trigger-words now but reviews and trigger-words are still very welcome and appreciated any time, and are always replied to if logged!


	24. Children

**Many t****hanks for all the previous reviews and to anyone who has this on favorite or alert; as usual I hope you'll all continue to enjoy these little bits :).**

**Sorry I've been so quiet; I've been having a rough time.**

**For **_**Mellow girl **_**and**_** Synnove **_**who provided the trigger-word.**

Mac watches through the glass walls as Stella's sitting there twiddling not thumbs but test-tubes. A motion he's sure is not going to have any effect whatsoever on the test she's running, not even make the time until it's complete seem shorter. He's equally sure that she knows that.

So what effect could it have? He goes through the cases they are currently working on. Anything that could be bothering her? But the only conclusion he arrives at is that if he wants to find out what's the matter he'll have to ask her.

He approaches her. "Hey, what's up?"

She forces a smile onto her lips. "Nothing, just waiting for results." And she faces the table again.

He hadn't really expected anything else. "Well, if you want to talk about _nothing_, you know I'm there."

With a genuine smile she leans her head back and against his chest. "Yeah, I know that." She puts the test-tube on the table and spins it.

Once, twice, it ends pointing towards her.

"This morning I took the subway to work." Another spin. "And … there was this little girl, maybe three or four years old. She was totally lost in some game she was playing, so unaware." Rubbing her thumb against the glass. "And while I was watching her, I guess so was I." She pulls her hand away from the test-tube, feeling his hand on her shoulder. "And then when she got off … everything came back …"

She falls silent and he waits, just rubbing her back gently.

"All the things we deal with every day. And despite everything … I realized that despite all of that, all my experience, all that's going on in this world, I want to have children." She turns slightly to look at him. "Selfish, huh?"

His hands still on her shoulder he turns her so that she faces him. "No, what could be selfish in wanting to give a child a home? And I know you would be a wonderful mother."

There is doubt in her smile. _How do you know?_ "I know that you would be a wonderful father." She remembers how Mac had been with the little boy from the museum.

"How do you know?" he wonders.

"I watched you … I know you …" she hesitates for a moment, "some things can't be proved … but I just know, and I know I'm right."

"Exactly." he smiles. _That_'_s how I know._

* * *

Thanks for reading. I hope this was okay. I've got quite a few trigger-words now but they and all reviews are of course still very welcome and appreciated any time, and are always replied to if logged.


	25. Fiddler

**Many t****hanks for all the previous reviews and to anyone who has this on favorite or alert; as usual I hope you'll all continue to enjoy these little bits :). Also thanks for the nomination as Best WIP in this year's fanfiction awards :).  
**

**For **_**iluvcsi4ever **_**who provided the trigger-word.**

"You hear that?" Stella asks.

"Of course." Mac smiles and turns towards where the sound is coming from.

Stella follows him and they stop at a corner of the park where someone is playing on a fiddle. Stop and listen to the man drawing pensive notes from his instrument. Notes that weave into the leaves and the green.

"Are you from East Galway?" Mac asks the busker when the tune is finished.

The man gives him a suspicious glance. "What makes you think so? Why do you want to know?"

"The style of the music you're playing is typical of East Galway," Mac explains, "slow pace that allows concentrating on the mood of the music, a certain wistfulness …. So I was wondering if it's your native style or if there are other reasons for your choice."

The fiddler relaxes. "So you're not looking for a criminal from there."

"No." Stella assures the man, continues with a smile at Mac, "Even he takes a break every once in a while … very occasionally … and music is probably the best incentive."

"And how do you know we are cops?" Mac wonders.

The man looks at them for a long time. "Guess that makes me suspicious, huh? Just a feeling … the way you look at things and can't seem to stop analyzing. Yes, I am from East Galway, and I kind of see in your eyes what you hear in my music, and where would that come from if not your experience … the things that you have seen, see everyday." The man pauses for a moment, looking back and forth between them. "But I also see something else in your eyes …"

He starts another tune and sings them of love.

* * *

Thanks for reading. I hope this was okay, sorry if I didn't get the speech right, I've never been to East Galway, only know their music :). All feedback is very welcome and appreciated any time, and always replied to if logged. I can also use a few more trigger-words :).

Polls for the awards will be open until Friday. Don't forget to vote :), there's lots of great authors and stories to choose from and it only takes a moment.


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